I'm The Man Who Loves You
by Xstrawberry0fieldsforeverX
Summary: A collection of short one-shots about the different stages of the JAM relationship.
1. Chapter 1

**So... I've had these sitting on my desktop for three or four months now, and I finally decided to start posting them... I hav four so far, but I don't know how many there are going to be... or if they're any good... So...yeah...**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing. It's pretty sad.**

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He walks in on his first day at Dunder-Mifflin, and he can already tell from the bland atmosphere and the apathetic expressions on the faces of the employees that it's going to be a tedious job. His nervous, olive eyes find their way over to the receptionist's desk where they meet the expressive emerald eyes of the petite woman that sits behind it. They trace their way along her fair skin, down the curve of her cheekbone; then focus their gaze on her thin, rose-colored lips. To most people, there's nothing special about her: she's just the average plain Jane; but to him, she's the most beautiful woman he's ever seen.

Heart beating wildly, he introduces himself as the new employee, Jim and she returns the greeting, giving him a warm smile that reaches her eyes and seems to light up the entire atmosphere of the dreary office. _Her name is Pam._

"Enjoy this moment," she says, a devious smile playing at the ends of her lips, "because you're never going to go back to this time after you meet your desk mate, Dwight." He isn't quite sure what she means by that, but he finds himself returning the smile anyway.

As he sits down at his desk and begins to unpack his belongings, a man, Dwight, he guesses, sits down at the desk beside his, shoving his hand in Jim's face.

"Dwight K. Schrute," he says with a business-like tone. Jim hesitantly shakes his hand, eyes making their way over to Dwight's desk. Office supplies and utensils are neatly organized at the front of the desk, while a collection of bobble heads are dispersed in positions that give off the impression that the man is neurotic about his belongings.

Seconds after the practical greeting, the older man, who smelled strongly of beets, begins a long monologue, which emphasized, among others, several important points: that Jim's belongings should never be touching his desk, that Jim should never touch any of his items, and that he is and has always been Michael's number two man.

After Dwight's long, elaborate lecture, the younger man is left with the impression that his desk mate maintained an irritatingly professional disposition at all times. This lasts for about half the day, when his coworker interrupts his work.

"Jim, are you going to buy tickets?" He asks.

"Tickets for what?"

"The gun show," Dwight replies cockily, flashing his large biceps- or lack thereof. Rolling his eyes, he glances over at the receptionist's desk, where Pam gives him a sympathetic smile; her soft, bubblegum lips form the word "sorry". And that's when he knows, as long as Pam was here, he wouldn't mind working at Dunder-Mifflin for the rest of his life.


	2. Chapter 2

It's his second week at work, and he finds himself glancing over at the receptionist's desk for the hundredth time that day. It's five of twelve and he's fidgeting in his seat, trying to decide which part of his brain is right: the one that says he should ask her out, or the one that tells him he has no chance in hell.

Sure enough, though, he finds himself standing in front of her desk five minutes later. He reaches into a small jar on her desk, containing many different flavors of jelly beans and pops a few of them into his mouth.

"Hi," she smiles, looking up at him.

"Hey," he returns the smile. As he looks down at her, he realizes that she isn't working as he assumed, but instead sketching his side of the office.

She blushes, noticing his glance, and covers the drawing up instantly.

"Wow, that's really good," he compliments, and her cheeks turn a deeper shade of pink.

"Thanks," she replies embarrassed, looking away as though she'd never received a compliment before.

"Do you do a lot of those?" She looks surprised for a moment, and then answers.

"Um, yeah. I've always loved art… and… well, I needed _something_ to do here."

"Ah. And you chose to draw this side of the office because you couldn't keep your eyes off of Dwight," he jokes, hoping it'll elicit a laugh from her.

"Of course," she grins, "Speaking of Dwight, are you buying tickets to the gun show?"

"Absolutely," he replies, and it suddenly becomes easier to talk to the brunette. She reaches over to the cup of mixed berry yogurt that was recently retrieved from the refrigerator and placed on her desk: a cluttered mess of faxes, documents, and sketches. Her fingers trace the shiny, pink foil lid and begin to pull up the tab.

"Hey, um, this might sound weird, and there's absolutely no reason I should know this, but that mixed berry yogurt you're about to eat is expired." Pam pauses, frowning and turns the cup around, searching for an expiration date. After examining the cup, she shrugs and places it back on the desk. Her emerald eyes glance up, meeting Jim's, and she thanks him quietly.

"I'm going out to lunch today," he says hesitantly, "Do you want to come with me?"

She looks up at him, surprised, and he thinks he feels his heart stop for a second. Jim looks away, waiting for the rejection, while the receptionist's confused expression dissolves into a smile.

"Sure," she replies, grinning, "I mean, I do owe you for saving me…"

"Right," he says, recovering quickly, "I did save you from the dangers of expired dairy products.

"Exactly." And they both share a smile.

"Okay," he says, lightly drumming the desk with his hands. She beams, rising from her chair, and he reaches into the jar again, grabbing two or three jelly beans.

"Don't eat all the black ones," she warns, feigning solemnity, "those are Dwight's favorite."

The smile on his lips extends even further as he purposefully snatches a handful of the licorice-flavored candies.

"These are gross," he notes, as he follows Pam out of the office.

She's very soft-spoken and artsy, he notes, and so he takes her out to a café that he thinks she'll like. They sit across from each other at an old, wooden table near the back of the restaurant, while the din of clanking dishes and the low hum of voices engaged in conversation surrounds them.

Pam's not like any other girl he's gone out with, and he loves how easy it is to talk to her. She tells him that it's always been her dream to become an artist; he tells her how he wants to be a sports writer, and they both laugh over the unfortunate events that led them to work at a paper company. He finds that he likes learning more about her: that she has a close relationship with her mom, that she's really in to graphic design, that they both love pranks and listening to the Beatles.

The date is going well; it's probably the best date he's ever had. Both of them fall silent for a moment, and she reaches for her coffee cup. When her soft, slender fingers tighten their hold on the paper cup, his eye is drawn to a sparkling piece of jewelry that rests on her ring finger. The glint of the ring seems to glare at him; his hopes crumple into pieces and come raining down, piercing heart like the hail of bullets brought by wartime. _She's engaged._ And he wonders what had possessed him to think he'd ever have been this lucky.

"Is something wrong?" The concern shines through her bright green eyes as she asks the question.

He shakes his head. He had just had the best date he'd ever been on, and it wasn't even a date.

"Well, we should get back… Dwight's a volunteer sheriff's deputy," she grins, "He could get us into serious trouble if we're late."

His hopes are crushed, but Jim instantly smiles back: an automatic reaction to her smile. And that's when he decides that it's worth it just to be friends with her.

"Don't forget that he's also Assistant TO THE Regional Manager."


	3. Chapter 3

The bitter, winter air sends a shiver down his spine, while the occasional gusts of wind make a constant job of rearranging his hair. He gazes out into the lake; reflections of the vibrant city lights creating bright, abstract shapes where they bounce off the water.

His eyes drift away from the water and over to Pam, studying the way the light meets her soft cheekbones. A light breeze pushes its way through her curls, and he wants so badly to be the one to tuck the strand of hair back behind her ear.

"Sometimes I just don't get Roy," she says. As soon as the words leave her mouth, something in her eyes tells him she regrets it. He knows she thinks she's not allowed to say things like that; not allowed to express her opinion because she thinks it's stupid or meaningless. And he hates Roy for doing that to her.

"I mean… I don't know…"

Her eyes shift to meet his, and she gazes at him expectantly. Her words echo in his mind, shining small rays of hope through his constantly breaking heart. She doesn't understand Roy because Roy isn't right for her. Roy doesn't even try to understand her; he does.

He decides then that he'll tell her; that he'll finally be honest with her. The words erupt from his heart, then float around in his mind. He contemplates them for a moment, willing them to reach his mouth, but they get stuck in his throat, and his mind screams for them to leave his parted lips.

"I'm going to go in," Pam says, breaking the awkward silence, "It's cold out here…"

Jim nods, watching her walk away and silently curses himself, wondering why the hell he couldn't get the three words out. He waits several minutes, and the words have reached his lips by now, but she isn't here anymore.

The brisk, winter air sends a shiver down his spine, and he decides to go back inside: to Michael and his ridiculous attempts at dancing and, well… being a manager, to Dwight, to Katy, to Pam, to… Roy.

He pushes open the door, stepping inside as the warm air rushes toward him. Jim gazes around the room, looking for a place to sit that isn't crowded with people. Maybe he'll go find Ryan's hiding place; it seems to be working for him.

Instead, he ends up next to Michael, Dwight, and the captain. Michael's still trying to compare the ship to a business and make himself seem more important than the captain. Dwight's getting confused over who he should be kissing up to, and then in another one of Michael's comparisons to the ship, he finds himself being asked who he'd save if the office was on fire.

He spits out some bullshit story about saving the customer, that the customer is king, and the words come flowing out of his mouth so easily, no one would have guessed he was lying.

Because he knows who he'd save. He'd save her a million times before he'd save anyone else. And he knows it sounds terrible, but that's how he feels.

And then, out of nowhere, he feels it: this newfound confidence, this overpowering courage. Adrenaline pulses through his veins and he makes his way over to Pam. This time he'll tell her.

She's sitting across the room at a nearly empty table, looking extremely uncomfortable as she makes awkward conversation with Katy. His legs, seemingly having minds of their own, begin to make their way over to her. She's sitting 20 feet away from him, but the distance feels longer.

Step by step, he nears her table and he's barely aware of the events going on around him. He's blind to the actions of everyone else, deaf to the low murmur of voices, the beat of the drums, the rhythm of the bass underlining the soft jazz chords. All he can focus on is her; the auburn locks that fall into her bright green eyes, the way her nose crinkles when she laughs, the sound of her laughter.

When Jim reaches the table, he pulls out a chair. His hands are shaking; palms are becoming sweaty, and he can't remember ever being this nervous around her.

"Hey… can I have everybody's attention?" a slurred voice speaks out from behind him, and he freezes in his tracks.

"I just wanted to say… enough is enough… Pam, I think we should finally set a date for the wedding. How about June 10th?" he suggests, and he feels Pam get up beside him.

Beaming, she rushes into her fiancé's arms. Tears of joy sparkle in her eyes as she kisses him, surrounded by the applause of everyone else on the ship. Grinning broadly, Katy rises as well as she cheers for the couple, and he his hit with a mixture of emotions.

The first thing he feels are the little rays of hope he had felt only fifteen minutes ago evolve into harsh rays that burned holes through his already damaged heart. It feels as though it might crumble apart if disturbed even the slightest bit.

And then he feels an intense hatred for Roy. Not only because he's Pam's fiancé, or because he doesn't treat her right. The part that makes his blood boil is the fact that he kept her waiting for three and a half years before setting the date; and the fact that he had to be _drunk_ when he finally did it.

And then he feels guilty for being so selfish; making it about him when _she_ standing there in _his_ arms, looking happier than she has in a long time.

And that's when he loses all hope in ever having _her_.


	4. Chapter 4

The truck passes him, creating a light breeze through the warm, spring air, leaving him with the lonely glow of the street lamps… and Pam.

"Hey," she greets him brightly, beginning to walk beside him.

"Hey," he returns the greeting, though he isn't sure he can respond with the same kind of cheerfulness.

'We should get back in there… so I can take more of your money," she jokes, and he wants so badly to be able to respond with a joke like he always does, but his heart isn't in it.

It's down to this moment between them. He's leaving for Australia soon; she's getting married soon. And of course there's the fact that he's leaving Scranton for good. And he needs her to know.

"Can we talk?" he asks, solemnly.

"About when I can take more of your money? We can go inside and do it if you want…" she says, broad grin playing at the ends of her lips.

"I'm in love with you." The words leave his mouth unexpectedly, as if he has no control over his own tongue, and his first instinct is to look away; to avoid her gaze, but he can't. His eyes stick in place, fixed upon the strawberry locks that fall into place perfectly on her shoulders, the sparkle in her emerald eyes, the way the blue dress hugs the curves of her body. She's beautiful, smart, warm, funny, _perfect_.

And then the grin on her face dissolves.

"What?"

"I'm sorry if that's weird for you to hear," he says, and he still can't bring himself to look away.

"Why are you doing this?" She asks, as if he'd done something to hurt her.

"I needed to tell you… Just once." He says, and he's falling apart in front of her. What the hell had he expected by doing this, anyway? That she somehow had feelings for him too and would then break off her wedding with Roy for him, and they would live happily ever after?

"You have no idea how much your friendship means to me," she says, and he can tell it hurts her to say this, but he doesn't want to hear it.

"Don't do that," he tells her, "I want to be more."

"I… can't."

He nods, eyes glazed over with unshed tears. A lone tear slips through the gloss, tracing its way down his cheek. Embarrassed, he hastily wipes it away, and averts his eyes from meeting hers.

"I'm sorry if you misinterpreted our friendship," she tries, and it sounds like she's about to cry as well, but he can't bring himself to listen to her anymore.

"I'm sorry I misinterpreted our friendship," he says, walking away. It feels as though his heart is an old, worn out building, and she's taken a wrecking ball to it until it all crumbled to pieces. She's beautiful, smart, warm, funny, _perfect_, and no matter how badly he wants her, she'll never be his.

So he keeps walking, leaving all of this behind. Because he needs to escape it. It's the only way he'll ever be able to move on.

But something stops him before he leaves the parking lot and he find himself heading back up to the office.

"He's my best friend…" he hears, as he enters the familiar room. It sounds as though she's crying, and it pains him to hear her like that. He never meant to hurt her. He just needed her to know.

"I… I think so…"

Even though he has no way of knowing what those simple three words mean, he decides to take one more chance. His brain tells him that none of this is logical, that trying one more time won't make a difference, but everything else is telling him to go for it; it's the only thing that makes sense to him.

"I have to go, mom," Pam says, noticing his presence. After hanging up the phone, she turns to face him.

His eyes are on her, studying the way the light brings out her sad eyes and sparkles as it meets the teardrops that cling to her eyelashes. Without skipping a beat, he moves forward. His arms are around her and he meets her soft lips with his own, bringing her into a passionate kiss that she returns with the same longing. The tears continue to slip down her cheeks, and he's pretty sure that he's crying too, but it's the only thing that makes sense.

And then she pulls away.

"I can't…" she says it so quietly, that it's almost inaudible.

"I can't…" she says much louder now, and he's left with a stabbing pain in his heart much worse than before.

He put everything on the line for her twice, and twice she rejected him. The second time, however, she let him feel what it was like to have her, and then tore it right out of his grasp.

And that's when he knows he has to leave Scranton. For good.


End file.
